Last Immortal Dragon (Gray Back Bears #6)(34)

She’d drawn for his past, present, and future twice, just to make sure, and for the first time since she’d been doing tarot card readings, she’d drawn the exact same card twice.

For his past, 8 of Cups made sense. He had chosen to live in a situation that hadn’t worked for him. Perhaps he hadn’t chosen immortality, but it had been his choice to harden his heart to everyone to protect himself.

For his present, the card she’d drawn also made sense. The Hanged Man. His life was at a crossroads, and there was something he needed to let go of. Cough, cough, Feyadine’s paintings.

But twice now, she’d drawn a card for his future that made the blood drain from her face and limbs. A black armored rider atop a pure white horse with a woman turned away, and a child offering him a bouquet of wilted flowers.

Death.

Now, Death rarely actually meant that someone would die, and more often indicated the need to be open to change. It was more of a transformation card. But pulling it twice in a row on Damon’s future had her hair standing on end.

The resounding knock reverberated down the marble hallway again, so she scooped up the cards, shoved them into her back pocket to think about later, and jogged toward the front entrance. “I’m coming!” But before she pulled open the door, she wised up and asked, “Who is it?” Because she sure as hell wasn’t dumb enough to just open the front door for Fuck Face Marcus.

“It’s Creed and the other alphas, here to meet with Damon at his request.”

With a grunt for her efforts, Clara pulled a giant potted plant across the floor, and in front of the door stood on the pot and stared out the stupidly tall peephole. Sure enough, five men stood outside, and two of them she’d met before.

When she finally pulled the heavy doors open, they greeted her with somber smiles and Creed introduced her to the striking blue-eyed alpha of the Ashe Crew, Tagan, and the dark-haired alpha of the Boarlanders, Harrison, and lastly to a giant of a man with shoulders as wide as a redwood. His dark eyes crinkled as he offered his hand for a shake. “I’m Kong of the Gray Backs and the Lowlanders.”

“Kong?” she asked through a grin as she shook his hand. He just about rattled her bones. “You don’t smell like a bear, King Kong.”

“Gorilla shifter,” he said with a nod, confirming her suspicion.

Oh, she bet he was a beast when he Changed. “You’re the first gorilla shifter I’ve met,” she announced. “Damon is straight down that hallway on the left. He and Mason are in the office.”

Creed gave her a sideways hug as the others stepped into Damon’s house. “How are you holding up?”

Apparently word spread quickly when anything dramatic happened in these mountains. “I’m okay. Just worried about Damon.”

“Your mate?” he asked low.

Heat flushed her cheeks, and she hugged his side tightly and nodded. “My mate.”

“Glad to hear it, Grandma.”

“Eee, I hadn’t thought about that. Ha! I would be your…step-grandma? Weird. I’ll be sure to send you birthday cards with five dollar bills in them.”

Creed pumped his fist and hissed, “Yes.”

With a laugh, she swatted his arm and told him, “Go to your meeting before Damon eats you.”

Her chest rose and fell deeply as she watched the four alphas saunter down the hallway. Tagan made sure to splash Creed with the fountain water that spewed from the naked Grecian man’s penis as they passed.

Clara turned to the final visitor, who lingered at the threshold. “Hi Beaston.”

He ducked his head respectfully. “Mate of the Dragon.”

The title brushed over her skin, lifting gooseflesh in its wake. “Do you want to come in?”

“In there?” he asked, his dark eyebrows jacked up and his eyes blazing an inhuman seafoam green. “Fuck no. Too many ghosts.”

Clara turned and narrowed her eyes at the shadowy figures who lined the hallway. Honestly, she’d gotten used to their presence as she imagined Damon had gotten used to them over the centuries. That or Damon couldn’t see them. But apparently, Beaston could.

“You see beyond the veil, too?”

He backed away from the door. “Like my Mom did. I have a gift for you.”

She stepped out the door and shut the huge wooden barriers behind her. Then she sat beside Beaston on the porch stair.

“I was going to wrap it pretty, the way girls like. Glittery paper and ribbon and fancy shit, but I need to tell you why I’m giving you this, and I don’t write good.”

“Okay.”

He pulled a long knife from his belt, the blade gleaming in the sunlight. “I’ve made knives for all my Gray Back girls, and I know you like things that match.” Beaston swallowed hard and shook his head as he handed it to her, hilt first. “I wanted to make it small like theirs, but you have a big job to do.”

“What kind of job?”

“I had a dream.”

“About me?” she asked, her voice nothing but a shocked squeak.

“No,” he murmured, leveling her with his wild eyes. “About her. About your job.”

“Her?”

“He’s going to ask you to leave, Clara. Don’t go. Stay here. Fight. Fight even if you think it’s over. Fight until you’re dead. Fight until she’s dead.”